


Goodbye, Comet

by katherineandchompers (greendaisy)



Category: Starship Promise (Visual Novel)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-22
Updated: 2018-02-22
Packaged: 2020-06-07 18:47:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 939
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19475152
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/greendaisy/pseuds/katherineandchompers
Summary: Comet dies. I was explicitly asked not to write this, so I did.





	Goodbye, Comet

The crew tries to be quiet when they get up before her. Keyword being try. There is only so much they can do when she sleeps on a pull-out couch in the lounge. Most of the time she is dragged from blissful unconsciousness by some sort of banter. Jaxon’s quips are a lot less funny first thing in the morning.

“Comet! The cereal’s been out for ten minutes buddy!”

Their little green friend is still a pleasant weight against her chest. She grumbles incoherently. Maybe the crew will take the hint and leave the two of them alone. Comet can sleep in with her if it wants to. Except…Comet never sleeps in. At least, not when there is cereal to be had. Is it sick? With a groan, she opens her eyes. The harsh overhead lighting wastes no time in nearly blinding her.

“Hubble!” She screws her eyes shut tight against the light. It has been long enough now that she should really know better, but that is asking a lot.

“Comet?” Nothing. No whisker twitching, no irritated sounds. Is it even breathing? “Comet!?”

The rest of the crew stands up from their chairs at the panic in her voice, peering over the back of the couch. The engineer lifts herself up a little, trying to get a better look. Instead of stirring, Comet’s body slides down her chest, rolling to a stop at the curve of her stomach. She pokes it, right on the fattest part of its cheek. Comet hates being poked. It always puffs up and stomps its feet. Nova reaches down and lifts Comet off the engineer, closing her eyes as she scans for signs of life.

“It’s dead,” she concludes, expression softening. The engineer leaps to her feet, blurting the first thing that comes to mind.

“Comet can’t be dead! It was with me the whole time!”

“Comet could have died at any point after you went to sleep. It was old for its kind,” Nova says.

“Not helpful,” Jaxon snaps. He doesn’t look at Nova when he says it, eyes glued to Comet. Jaxon hesitates, and then takes its lifeless body from her arms, cradling it to his chest as he strokes the creature’s soft fur.

Two members of the crew lost their best friend this morning.

“Kid…” Atlas steps forward and puts a hand on her shoulder.

“I-I need to go!” Her head is swimming and her eyes burn with unshed tears. She shrugs off Atlas and speed walks out of the room, fists clenched at her side. Get it together! You’ve been through worse. You’ve fought aliens! You’ve almost died more times than you can count! The tears spill down her cheeks anyway.

There is nowhere for her to go for privacy on a ship so small. She settles for curling up in a corner of the bridge, pulling her knees to her chest as she sobs. The two of them got off to a rocky start, but Comet had always been a bright spot in the crew’s lives. Whenever things looked bleak, Comet knew just how to comfort her. Its antics, while sometimes problematic, never failed to make everyone smile. She had even caught Atlas hiding a grin on more than one occasion. Her heart races, and it’s just another reminder that Comet won’t be coming to nuzzle against her stomach.

At some point she stops crying, but she doesn’t get up. They need to do something with the body, plan a burial, or put it out the airlock, whatever one does with dead space pets. She can’t bear to face that right now. In the newfound silence, muffled voices and some rustling can be heard in the lounge. After a couple of quiet moments, the doors whoosh open. Orion kneels beside her. When he speaks, he is unusually gentle as though coaxing out a wild animal.

“Jaxon is picking out cereal for Comet’s send off. You should help.”

“I—” She opens her mouth to say something else, but tears threaten to start up again. Instead, she stands, flexing out the stiffness in her legs as she makes her way back into the lounge. She keeps her gaze focused on the floor, trying not to make eye contact with anyone still in the lounge. Jaxon is already there, rummaging through the same boxes of cereal over and over again.

Alright, you can do this. All you need to do is make a suggestion. Once again, she opens her mouth to speak. The words won’t come out. Jaxon looks to her, pausing his fruitless search. She can feel his gaze getting more intense every second she lingers. Way to go. You made it all the way into the kitchen just to loiter in Jaxon’s personal space. Crossing her arms against her chest to shield herself, she tries again.

“We should use Crunch. It’s, was, its favorite,” she blurts. Jaxon sighs gruffly, pulling the box down from the counter with an audible thunk. Was that the wrong suggestion?

“Comet wouldn’t want just Crunch. Comet would want all of it,” Jaxon says. He is right. So right that the image of Comet comes to mind, stamping his paws on the counter, ears up in anger and puffing out it’s chest in indignation at only being offered one type of cereal. A laugh bubbles up out of her of its own accord. Jaxon chuckles too, as though he had the same thought.

“Then we’ll use all of it.”

“All of it?” Jaxon confirms.

“All of it.” 

If Comet had to go, they would send it out with its own small galaxy of cereal.


End file.
